In The Business
by amillionsmiles
Summary: A series of one-shots revolving around the Gallagher Girl characters. Contains fluff, angst, humor, you name it. Latest: "Love leaves scars." "Sometimes we get scarred anyway." Now complete, for the time being at least.
1. About Time

I stood alone in the middle of a field of tall grasses, the grasses waving slightly with the breeze. It was a nice day, the sky a clear blue. The field was the perfect place to be alone and think.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl." The voice that had crossed my mind so often in the past month jolted me out of my reverie. I turned to see Zach slightly hunched, his hands in his pockets. He looked around and gave me a half-smile. I couldn't say how much I'd missed that half-smile of his, or the smirks he gave me when he knew something I didn't. He knew a lot of things I didn't, and I promised myself I would figure them out. "What are you thinking?" Zach asked.

"I'm thinking…wondering, actually, why you haven't come in so long," I replied, taking a step towards him. My eyes were drawn down to the warm bundle I held in my hand: Zach's jacket. I handed it to him wordlessly, waiting for a response.

"I couldn't," Zach said, accepting the bundle from me while running one hand through his hair.

"Why?" I asked. He'd trailed me while I was with Macey when her father was campaigning. Nothing had ever stopped him before.

"It's complicated. I mean, after all, we're spies."

"I think," I voiced, taking another step towards him, "that's the most honest thing you've ever said to me." After the words left my mouth, I couldn't tell if I'd meant them to be accusing or what. So many emotions were flying through my mind; confusion, frustration, wistfulness, and slight annoyance. Zach knew so many things that he wouldn't tell me, when all it would take to tell would be for him to just open his mouth. Zach's face softened.

"Well, Gallagher girl, I've got one more truth to tell." He took a step closer. We were so close now that our bodies touched, ever so slightly.

"What?" My breath caught. I didn't know what I wanted to hear.

"I love you." As the last word left his mouth, I was already closing my eyes and reaching upwards, while Zach's eyes closed and he bent his head downwards. He let go of his jacket as his arms circled my waist. My hands found their way around Zach's neck, and I moved one of them into his hair. His lips met mine, gently at first, then, just a little, we deepened it. As we stood there amid the grass, bodies entwined, I couldn't help smiling as we kissed.

_It's about time,_ I thought.


	2. Broken Walls

Life as a spy makes everything ten times more complicated. Trust me.

For those of you girls out there: you think reading guys is hard? Spy boys are harder.

Being a spy _girl _doesn't make things any easier. There are so many things you have to do: lie, cheat, fake, break promises, tell half-truths, and, through it all, stay strong. Breaking down isn't an option. To top it all off, I seem to have especially bad luck in the guy department. I don't know if it's because I'm a spy, a girl, or because I'm _me,_ Cammie. Cammie the chameleon, unseen by everybody. Except, when I do get seen, it always ends up badly.

It's happened to me one too many times – enough times to make me decide that maybe being unseen is better than being seen. In cases like these, someone ends up with a broken heart. So far, that person's been me.

That's the reason, I think, that I've put so many walls up. Walls are hard to break down. Most people don't care enough to break them down. It deters a lot of them – if you aren't easy, they give up. Yet, out of all the people who've ever come into contact with my walls, one person has been able to do it so easily, to slip through with just one smirk, one word, one kiss.

Zach.


	3. This Isn't A Game

**Author's Note: Thank you thank you thank you thank you for the reviews! Only two, but that's enough to make me smile stupidly at the screen. ;) So, this is for you guys: two more chapters! Read and review! :)**

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Zachary Goode has always excelled at everything he does. He's a master spy. He can lie smoothly and easily. He knows when to dangle information, when to keep it withheld. He can defend himself easily against attackers. He's smart, cool, mysterious…everything a spy should be.

Spying is really like a game, Zach reflects. You win some, you lose some. The only difference is that the stakes are higher. Lose a mission and you might lose your life. It's really a game of shadows, of evading the opponent, of tailing them when they don't know, of knowing things you shouldn't.

In that way, spying is like love. Both games. Both hard to play. But if it's so similar to spying, why can't Zach get it right?

He can't count how many times she's walked into a room and he's acted nonchalant, even though he's keenly aware that she's there. Or how many times their eyes have met, and he's thought that maybe, maybe they might have something. When she walks by, sometimes he forgets to breathe, but then he scolds himself for being a stupid fool. Sometimes he gets so frustrated. There have been so many times where he's given her hints, coaxed her on, begged her to see. He can't tell if she already has or not. Part of him hopes she has. The other half prays that she hasn't guessed yet, because that would give everything away. Zachary Goode doesn't like giving things away.

So, while Zach might be a master spy, he certainly hasn't learned how to master _this_ game. Besides that, he's already done what no spy is supposed to do.

Fall in love.


	4. Winter at Gallagher

_It's just so funny that the way he teases,_

_Breaks me into itty bitty pieces_

Cammie shouldn't have cared. This wasn't the first time. But this time had been different. It wasn't like with Josh, where she'd had to put up so many fronts to appear normal. This time, he'd known the real Cammie, the unsure, spy one.

"_And I thought, where there's one Gallagher Girl, there are usually others," Zach said, flashing her his signature smirk. Cammie, at a loss for what to say, had replied, "We're like smoke and fire that way." _

"_Yeah, something like that." _Cammie shouldn't shake the memory. She couldn't have misread what he meant: he'd come there to see her. Right? In London he'd proved faithful, too, trailing her across to a whole new continent.

"_You look cold."_

"_Well, see, I had a jacket, but I gave it to some girl," Zach told her. Cammie played along._

"_Not a smart choice." Zach shrugged._

"_It looked better on her, anyway," he confided._ Cammie shook her head, forcing herself to stop. She couldn't go on like this, pining after something that was over now. It'd been a month and she hadn't heard anything. She resolved to stay strong. Cammie would do anything it took to forget anything ever happened, to forget him.

_And I know that no good thing lasts forever,_

_But somehow I hoped we'd stay together._

Bex opened her suitcase to find Grant smiling up at her, his arm around her. They'd taken that picture on her birthday, and he'd presented the picture frame to her later. It was stylish, and pretty, but not in the dainty way. The sharp angled and sleek design screamed sophistication, and a don't-mess-with-me attitude. _"Like you,"_ Grant said when he gave it to her.

He's gone now, but Bex couldn't bring herself to throw away the only reminder of what they used to be. He still lingers, the way the scent of laundry does on clothes even days after you take them out of the wash. Instead, Bex slipped her hand under the photo frame and lifted it out. She set it on her drawer, but face down.

_So many of my feelings you've already seen,_

_But I don't want you saying things you don't really mean._

Cammie laid staring up at the ceiling.

"_Promise me something, Gallagher Girl," he said._ _She didn't. How could she promise anything, with the Circle on her heels?_

"_I'll try." She would try, she really would._

"_Stay out of trouble," Zach told her firmly. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, then turned and ducked into the forest, becoming absorbed by the trees. For a heartbeat, Cammie considered following him. She discarded the idea. Where would they go? Leaving everything behind wouldn't solve anyone's problems._

All Cammie had left of him was his jacket and a note: _Be careful. –Z _She pressed the jacket to her nose, but it just smelled like her. She'd had it for too long. She'd give up both his jacket and the note if she could see him again, in person.

_I'd say sorry, but, because of pride_

_All my tears I'll just keep inside._

Liz kept her email open every time she turned on the computer. Finally, Jonas logged on. His icon glowed green, and Liz was tempted to start a conversation. She restrained herself. No, she would be strong, she promised herself.

Her mouse hovered over his name, but Liz pulled her arm away. Five minutes later, Jonas logged off, without a word. Liz sighed. Ignoring him was proving harder than she'd thought.

Needless to say, winter at Gallagher was a long one.


	5. Never Again

**Thanks, once again, for the reviews, guys! So most of the last few one-shots/drabbles have been from Cammie's POV, so I thought I'd throw in some Zach. Tell me what you think!**

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"Tell me what you are that I'm not," Cammie challenged, her eyes flashing.

"Someone who has nothing to lose," Zach responded, turning so that she faced him. He considered his next words carefully. "Except you."

Cammie's eyes softened as she stared up at him. Zach didn't know what she saw, but he hoped she detected the sincerity behind those words. The need, too…he needed her to understand that she couldn't keep taking risks. She was bound to get hurt.

"I…" Cammie started but didn't finish. Zach shot her a questioning look. "I don't want to lose you, either, Zach."

The next few minutes passed by in slow motion. Zach's arm circled around Cammie's waist while his other hand found its way to her cheek. Cammie's hands reached up to Zach's shoulders. It was a bit hard to maneuver in the dark, cramped space, but somehow their mouths found each other's.

At that moment, Zach decided that no one was taking away anything else from him, ever again.


	6. Interruption

**This one's short, too. Oh, and by the way, the last chapter was a spin-off of that one scene in "Don't Judge a Girl By Her Cover" where they're in the compartment on the train. But you knew that already. :P**

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"I'm going to kiss you now, Gallagher Girl," I told Cammie, lacing my fingers through her hair. We were so close already that I could hear her breath catch. Her eyes fluttered closed.

As I moved in, I tilted my head slightly so our noses wouldn't bump. Then my eyes closed, too. It felt as if it took hours to close the remaining distance between us.

"Cammie?" A high-pitched voice jolted both Cammie and I out of our reverie. About a million different thoughts flew through my mind as I backed away from Cammie. The one thought highest on the list: _Crap._ I swore in Farsi.

Mustering all the politeness that Etiquette class at Gallagher had taught me, I turned around to face the last two people I wanted to see:

Josh and Deedee.


	7. Midnight Talk

**Another update, just for you guys! Thanks for the reviews! Care to do me a favor? ;) Give me a suggestion! Tell me a scene, location, object, or idea that you want featured in another one-shot/drabble. I'll try and honor you with a good one using your idea. :)**

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"Macey?" I maneuvered myself to her sleeping form, guided by the moonlight. "Can we talk?" I tugged off the covers and nudged her. Macey shifted, mumbling a string of incoherent words.

Suddenly, her eyes flashed open and I leapt back, startled, afraid she would come after me with a nail filer.

"Oh, it's you," Macey said, sitting upright. "Can't sleep?"

"Yeah," I said. "I've been thinking about…you know." I trailed off and looked awkwardly around the room.

"Zach," Macey stated. At the mention of his name, my eyes darted around the room, as if he would appear any moment. He had a habit of popping up unexpectedly, after all. Macey raked her fingers through her hair, attempting to comb it. Honestly, her hair looked perfect, even though she'd just woken up. My hand self-consciously rose up to pat my hair. I knew, without looking, that my brown hair was tangled, nowhere near the perfection of Macey's.

"Pretty much," I admitted, then sighed. Macey leaned forward, her blue eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"So what about him is bugging you, Cam?" she asked.

"_Everything,"_ I said, exasperated. "He just…he shows up everywhere –"

"Which you love," Macey pointed out. I blushed.

"But then he just _leaves._ He tells me to stay safe, but from what? He knows all these things that I don't, but when I ask, he won't tell me _anything._ It's so frustrating! It's like he knows everything about me, but I don't even know the real Zach. Meanwhile, I have no idea what's going on around me and he refuses to disclose that information!" My voice rose in pitch as I vented. The words had always been inside of me, but I'd kept them bottled up until now.

"He's mysterious," Macey shrugged. "Guys are like that." I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, but normal guys give you something to go on. I have no idea where I stand with Zach."

"Oh, but we know all we need to know about Zach," Macey said nonchalantly. "He's hot, totally likes you, and has a whole bunch of dark secrets that keep you guessing. It's kinda sexy, actually," Macey stated matter-of-factly. I groaned.

"I don't _care._ I just want him to be honest with me, for once!" I exclaimed. Macey shook her head in disapproval.

"You of all people, Cam. Shouldn't you know by now? We're spies. Keeping secrets is what we do. And," she added, "knowing you, sooner or later you're going to take it upon yourself to figure out those secrets, anyway. It's all part of the business." I relented.

"You're right," I acknowledged, finally running out of fuel. It was midnight and I was dead tired. "Thanks, Macey. Good night." Macey gave me a knowing smile.

"Anytime, Cam."


	8. Surprise, surprise

**So, running out of ideas here...remember that challenged I proposed to you in the other chapter? Review and give me an idea/item/place that you would like in my next drabble/one-shot. Please please please please please! Otherwise, you'll have to content yourself with waiting a week...or two...or THREE, even, before I come up with another idea. :'(**

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I've never liked fancy parties. Something about squeezing myself into a dress, cramming my feet into high heels, and applying makeup completely deters me from fancy occasions of any kind.

In this case, however, it's not like I had a choice. So there I stood at the top of the staircase, my hair flowing down to my shoulders and my gown sweeping the floor. It was a deep emerald color, and – so help me – strapless. Let's just say I've had a few unpleasant experiences in the department of strapless items.

Liz and Bex stood on either side of me. Liz looked cute, while Bex looked stunning. I probably just looked out of place.

"Remind me why we're doing this?" I whispered, gritting my teeth. Bex kept an iron grip on my arm to ensure I didn't bolt back to our room.

"Your mom's having this gala to impress the sponsors into donating more money to Gallagher so we can expand the curriculum," Liz reminded me.

"Don't forget that the people here are also spies," Bex added.

"Essentially, our job is to be charming and encourage funding," Liz continued. It sounded like she was quoting directly from a pamphlet or something. I sighed.

"Let's do this."

Two hours and fifty olives later, I still hadn't been asked to dance. Which was good. In fact, though there was music, not a lot of dancing was going on. The adults socialized while sipping from dainty cocktail glasses. My mom darted from group to group, laughing at all the right moments and greeting old friends.

"Ah, Cameron Morgan, Headmistress Morgan's daughter, I presume?" A man with a thick mustache approached me. Hurriedly I matched his face with a name I'd heard called out earlier, when someone else had addressed him.

"Mr. Guredon, it's pleasure to meet you. You can call me Cammie," I extended a hand, and he grasped it firmly, giving me a hearty shake.

"Excellent! How did you know my name, dear, without me introducing myself?" I flashed him what I hoped was a charming smile.

"Spy," I said, pointing to myself. Mr. Guredon chuckled.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl, that's my line." I dropped Mr. Guredon's hand and whirled around, astonished.

_"Zach?"_


	9. NotSoGoode Timing

**For Messesgoodenewtmen. I hope I did your idea some honor...and I hope it turned out okay! Thanks for giving me something to write about. :)**

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Summer time. Freedom.

Or, at least, that's the idea. Instead, I'm stuck inside a house babysitting a five-year-old, who is _way_ too curious for her own good.

"Cammie, I'm hungry!" Sarah pleads. Her luminous brown eyes stare up at me as she tugs on my sleeve. I'm feeling lethargic and am sprawled out on the couch.

"What do you want to eat?" I groan, my forehead sticky with sweat. Even though the house is air-conditioned, it isn't nearly cool enough for my comfort.

"POPSICLE!" Sarah yells, plopping onto the couch. I struggle to remember. Her mother (my aunt), said something about certain foods being off-limits. Were sweets one of them? I don't know. I sigh and roll off the couch, yanking open the freezer door. Rummaging through its contents, I find a box of unopened popsicles.

"What flavor?" I ask Sarah, opening the box.

"Cherry," Sarah says decisively. I select a cherry Popsicle and hand it to her. Sarah struggles to open the wrapper, but succeeds and sucks on it contentedly.

Fifteen minutes later, I decide that Popsicles were one of the items on the don't-feed-Sarah list. Sarah zooms around the room excitedly, overloaded with sugar and ten times more hyper than before, if that were even possible. The doorbell rings.

"Don't get that!" I yell to Sarah. She obliges, but follows me to the door. I open it warily, prepared to drop into fighting stance if it's an intruder.

Instead, green eyes and a mop of dark brown hair greet me. My jaw drops open.

"What are you…" I splutter. Zach leans against the doorframe, smirking.

"I heard you were in town. Thought I'd drop by," he says without missing a beat. Suave, like he always is. Sarah stares at him with wide eyes and looks at me, a grin breaking over her face.

"Is he your boyfriend?" she squeaks, curiously.

"No!" I scowl, avoiding looking at Zach. "Um, Zach, I kind of have a little kid to attend to…now isn't really a good time, so…" I finish by shutting the door gently. In his face. Then I focus my attention on my little cousin.

"_Sarah…!"_


	10. Snowfall

**This one is kinda fluffy...probably 'cause it involves snow. :P Oh, and I forgot to mention, but tomorrow I'm going on vacation! Unfortunately, that means I won't have any access to my computer and all its lovely files... so to keep you all happy until then, I updated and wrote you all THREE more drabbles/one-shots. I hope you're happy! :P Maybe I'll have time to squeeze one more in tomorrow before I leave, but I'm not promising anything.**

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Cammie pelts me with a snowball, laughing gleefully as she runs away.

"That hurts, Gallagher Girl," I say, placing my hand over my heart in mock discomfort. It's wintertime, and the snow sparkles with a clean brightness. Winter always amazes me. It reminds me of life: it can be cold and heartless sometimes, but it's beautiful.

Normally childish things like snowball fights aren't my style. I'm not the sunshine and rainbows kind of guy. Maybe it's because of my upbringing – I never really had anyone to play pretend and make-believe with. Or maybe it's just because I know that life isn't all sunshine and rainbows; there are storm clouds and rainy days that seem to last forever, too.

But it's Christmas Eve, and that guarantees an exception. For once I let down my guard, just a little. It can't hurt to have _some_ fun.

Cammie runs back to me. Her nose is red from the cold and her cheeks are bright pink from exertion. Snow clings to her hair, and her eyes are sparkling. I scoop up a handful of snow and fling it at her, smirking. Cammie cries in fake outrage and tackles me, sending us tumbling backwards. Snow, piled in drifts all around us, cushions our fall. I laugh as we're caught by the soft, wet whiteness.

I'm falling in snow…and in love.

But maybe I'll enjoy it.


	11. It Won't Be Easy

**Oh, for those of you who liked "Surprise, surprise" (Chapter 8), I extended it and made it into a longer (and hopefully better) one-shot. I wouldn't mind you all taking a look at it (it's under the title "I'll Always Come Back") and leaving me a review! :P**

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"Just what are you saying, Gallagher Girl?" Zach asks me. I can tell he's angry. It isn't the blood boiling kind of angry, but something about the steadiness in his voice scares me. It's too late for me to apologize for what I've said, though. I've dug myself in too deep a hole to climb out.

"We can go rescue them," I repeat, my eyes not meeting Zach's.

"Gallagher Girl, this isn't a fairy tale. People are going to get hurt," Zach tells me. As if I don't already know that.

"But we can _do_ something about it, Zach!" My voice raises just a pitch, from a combination of nerves and frustration. "Do you expect me to just stand here while my one of my teachers is missing? Am I supposed to just do nothing when I know that someone, somewhere out there has information about my dad?"

"Fine." There's resignation in Zach's voice. He accepts his defeat, but then his face hardens into a mask, and I can't read his emotions. "It's risky, though."

"Everything is," I reply, before I lose my resolve. "Zach, this is what we've trained for. We have to try." Zach gives me a look, a look that seems to say, _"You don't know what you're talking about."_

"I know what we're up against, Gallagher Girl. And it isn't going to be easy."


	12. Birthday Boy

**Sorry it's been so long! How was everyone's Thanksgiving break? Once again, I'm suffering from some writer's block...ideas, please! Anything, anything!**

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"A birthday party," Zach repeats, the idea registering slowly in his mind. Grant beams.

"Yes, Zach, a birthday party!" he cries, exhilarated. "You know, with presents, and cake –"

"I know what a birthday party is," Zach interrupts. "But…"

"But what?" Grant smiles as if it's his birthday, not Zach's. "Dude, you need to lighten up more. We can invite the girls, and –"

"Who said anything about the girls?" Zach starts to wonder how well thought out Grant's plan is. A birthday party? They're seventeen. Candles and cake just don't fit the image of Zachary Goode, trained spy and assassin. Jonas shifts uncomfortably.

"Erm…yeah. The girls?"

Grant scoffs. "Yeah. _The _girls. You know, Liz, Cammie, Macey, _Bex." _He practically drools over Bex's name. Jonas looks wildly around the room.

"Whatever. I'm not planning this."

"Neither am I," Zach agrees. Grant complains loudly.

"Zach! It's _your _birthday."

"Which is why I vote we sit around do nothing," Zach concludes, folding his arms.

"Have you ever had a birthday party?" Zach freezes. His mind is projected back to a time when the world was a brighter, more cheerful place.

"_Zach!" His father barged into his room and set a large box on his bed. Zach raised his head drowsily._

"_What, Dad?"_

"_Happy birthday! Go ahead and open it!" Zach sat up quickly and tore off the gift-wrapping. Opening the box he found a comms-unit, his first connection with the spy world._

"_Awesome," was the only word Zach could manage as he lifted it out and hooked it to his ear. "Do you have one, too, Dad?"_

"_Of course," Dad winked. "I'll always be listening."_

_Later that day, Dad presented Zach with a cake. It was a small party, just them two, but that was all they needed. Zach felt safe and sound, cocooned in a bundle of comfort. _

"_Make a wish."_

_He did, and blew out all ten candles in one breath. Zach wished that things could always be like this, that nothing would take Dad away from him. Obviously, whoever heard his wish didn't grant it. Two years later, Zach lost his dad._

Grant notices the expression on Zach's face, and stops. "God, Zach, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"It's okay." Zach doesn't want Jonas or Grant thinking it's a touchy subject. The Zach they know is steady and sure, not troubled with haunted remembrances of his past.

"Forget the birthday party," Grant mumbles. "We'll just chill."

"No." He wants to prove to them that he's fine. There's nothing to worry about. Zach thinks it's time he had a birthday party. He promises himself that this one will be better than the one he had seven years ago.


	13. Pros and Cons

**This one's short...but I hope you like it anyways!**

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THE PROS AND CONS OF BEING ALONE IN A ROOM...WITH A CERTAIN BOY...

PRO: You finally get to see him and talk to him.

CON: It's kind of pointless, because he still refuses to tell you anything worthwhile.

PRO: He flashes you that smirk you've been missing for so long.

CON: You'd do anything to wipe it off his face.

PRO: As he steps closer, your insides melt a little.

CON: You can't focus on being annoyed or angry when internally you're melting.

PRO: No one's there to see when he wraps his arms around you suddenly and kisses you.

CON: Your mind is so preoccupied with the kiss that you can't think of a cons.


	14. New Year's Resolution

Standing in the dark across from Zach, my mind backtracks to earlier this year, on New Year's. Before Zach, before all of this, but after Josh.

"_So, what's your resolution?" Bex asked, raising an eyebrow and she sat across from me on her bed._

_ "Huh?" My mind was unfocused and I stared at her in confusion. Bex rolled her eyes._

_ "Your New Year's resolution," she said slowly. "What are you going to do or not going to do this year? What are you giving up on?" The answer popped into my head immediately._

_ "Easy," I said, faking nonchalance, "no more boys." Bex shifted uncomfortably, then gave me a pointed look._

_ "Are you sure you're gonna be able to follow through with that?" My voice remained steady as I answered her._

_ "Of course."_

_ "Cammie," Bex said quietly, "are you okay?" She noticed the way I sat rigidly, and how my words came out clipped. I looked at her and did one of the things I was best at: "Yeah," I lied._

Months later we took the Covert Operations field trip to D.C. And we saw them. But I had no intention of initiating contact. Even when Bex eyed them. Even when she called me out as being "not over Josh." Even when one offered to escort me to Mr. Solomon and turned out to be a spy and beat me to the ruby slippers exhibit.

But then suddenly he was there, in my school. Right now he was still _in my school._ And lately, he'd been in my head a lot, too.

So, as Zach steps closer and brushes aside a stray piece of hair, I half-willingly and half-unwillingly give myself over. All I know is that my New Year's resolution is broken.


	15. Hope

_You can't run forever._

Those four words weasel their way into my thoughts as I leave Gallagher behind. Because I know that they're true. I don't have any idea where to run to, where to go, and what to do when I get there. Why didn't I accept Zach's offer? Maybe if I had gone with him, I might actually have a chance…

_No._ I cast my doubts aside, crushing them before they can hurt me anymore. I'm a trained spy. My whole life I've known that someday I would have to do something like this. I'm determined, and intelligent, and a pavement artist –

- but underneath it all I'm still just a teenage girl, alone in the world. Moving forward means leaving behind my mom and my friends. And what am I abandoning them for? The faint hope that maybe I can singlehandedly bring down an organization that Mr. Solomon and my father only succeeded in making a dent in. The folly of it all almost makes me laugh out loud.

Almost. I may not be able to run forever, but I can do what I do best. Hide. Watch and wait. Bide my time. Learn.

Most of all, I can hope.


	16. Missing in the Morning

Bex noticed it first.

It was reasonable for Cammie to behave that way, after all she'd been through. But Bex couldn't shake the ominous feeling, the sudden apprehension that things were going to change. Drastically. Recently, Cammie had become quieter. Something in her eyes was different, something that hadn't been there before. Cammie's eyes had always been so soft, so trusting. Now there was something else behind them, a steely look. Sometimes it seemed as if Cammie was absorbing everything, memorizing every part of Gallagher. Other times, Cammie stared at things so intensely Bex feared they might evaporate into smoke. Bex wasn't used to this. Normally Cammie was the water to Bex's fire, but now, Bex didn't know if Cammie was the same.

She didn't participate anymore in their midnight "expeditions", when she'd used to be the one who started them. Instead, Cammie opted to stay in their room, doing who knew what. And she'd started carrying around a notebook everywhere. There wasn't anything suspicious about it. It was plain, white, and spiral-bound, but Cammie took it everywhere_, _and Bex couldn't help wondering why.

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"Is it just me, or is the pasta lacking in something today?" Macey attempted, trying to spark a conversation at their silent table.

"Hmm, yeah, it seems to be missing the zest it normally has," Bex observed, chewing her mouthful of pasta slowly. Liz stabbed a piece with her fork and nibbled it.

"Yeah, it's… different. What do you think, Cammie?" Liz asked, turning towards their silent friend.

"Hmm?" Cammie's eyes refocused, but not before Bex caught the look of vacancy that had been there a moment ago.

"The pasta…" prompted Liz.

"Oh, yeah. It's not as flavorful," Cammie said, taking a bite. She shrugged.

Bex scrutinized her friend. Maybe it was the shrug, or the smile – or the fact that there _was_ no smile on Cammie's face, that alerted her that something was wrong.

"Guys, I'm going to go back to the room," Cammie announced suddenly, standing up slowly.

"Are you sure, Cammie?" Liz asked, some worry creeping into her voice. "You shouldn't go back alone. There could be someone waiting in there. Do you want us to come?"

"No, I'm fine," Cammie insisted, somewhat defensive. "There's a panic button in and everything. I'll be fine. You guys just… stay here."

"Okay," Liz consented in a small voice. They watched Cammie as she left.

Macey voiced what was on all of their minds: "Something's up."

* * *

When they got back to their room, Cammie was already standing at the door. Out of nowhere, she began hurriedly, "I'm sorry guys. I know I've been a little distant lately. I've just had a lot on my mind. And I know I shouldn't shut you all out like that, but I need some thinking time, some space." Cammie took a breath, as if she'd been rehearsing the impromptu miniature speech for some time. "Whatever happens, you all are my best friends. You'll always be that. My best friends." She looked unsteadily between Macey, Bex, and Liz. Macey and Liz frowned, slightly confused at Cammie's passionate outburst.

Bex made her way into the room and sat down on the bed. She was happy with Cammie's acknowledgement, but it felt as if something was missing. Some crucial piece of information.

"We _are_ your best friends," Bex said, looking Cammie in the eye. "And if you ever need anything, if there's ever something we can help with, we'll be right here." Everyone in the room could hear the silent message beneath Bex's words. Cammie knew it, too – Bex wasn't saying things just to be comforting. She was telling Cammie, _"We know something's up. Tell us. Now."_

But the problem was, Cammie couldn't.

* * *

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully after that, and all too soon nighttime fell. Cammie looked about the room one more time, studying her friends' faces, memorizing everything she could.

"Cammie, you going to bed?" Liz asked sleepily.

"Yeah." Cammie curled up under the covers, but her eyes stayed open as Macey shut off the lights.

None of them thought anything was amiss until the next morning they woke up.

Cammie was gone.


	17. The Truth

_"If I never lied then maybe you'd be the truth."_

She has that look on her face again, the one where it's as if she's thinking hard about something. But he doesn't want her to have to think, not about something like this.

"Cammie," he says, catching a strand of her hair as it blows in the wind. He tucks it behind her ear, but his hand stays there, hovering.

"Zach." Somehow she makes his name sound like a statement, a question, and an answer, all at once.

"I'm sorry." She hasn't yet shoved his hand away, which is a good sign.

Her hand comes up to grab his. "For what?" she asks. She has a hard look in her eyes, and Zach knows she doesn't expect an answer. "For lying to me? For letting me believe that all this time you were… _good?"_

"I was trying to protect you," he says, but the argument sounds weak even to his ears. Of all the words he knows, in all the languages he knows – Spanish, French – he can't find the right ones to express all the regret he feels right now.

_I love her._ The words surface, plain and simple, in his mind, but his mouth can't muster the courage to say them. The truth has always been there, lurking underneath, but he can't – he _won't – _admit it. He's been a spy for too long now. When you're a spy, Zach muses, you find out that lying is easy. Telling the truth is what's hard.

Telling the truth means you have to believe in it. And believing makes it real. Too real. So instead, Zach shoves down the feeling and lets go. He takes a step back.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, softly. "I guess I should have known you'd figure it out eventually. You always do, Gallagher Girl," he continues with a half-smile, the last one he'll ever give her. She doesn't say anything, and in the silence Zach almost reconsiders. _I could stay here, and fix everything._ But fixing things isn't Zach's forte.

He turns away and forces himself to walk. Inwardly he prays that if he sees her again she won't hate him. Of course, there's the problem: _if_ he ever sees her again.


	18. The Truth Part II

**So, it seems most of you guys liked the last chapter. I decided to do a sort-of follow up chapter. Anyway, read and review! Tell me if you like it. :)

* * *

**

_I guess it'll always be like this: you always running, me always two steps behind._

Two months can really change a person, Zach thinks as he watches her out of the corner of his eye. She seems more poised, but also more wary. He'll have to be careful if he doesn't want to be seen.

Why she's in Florida, he has no idea, but seeing her after so long hurts. He wants to come up with some sly remark and startle her, but she reminds him of a deer. Frightened and alone, prone to running if scared too much.

Instead, he stands in the shadows and watches. Something seems off about the situation. For instance, where are her friends? He's scanned the area, but can't pick out any Gallagher personnel. Shouldn't there be trained agents, and her mother, somewhere in the area, watching her, keeping her safe?

A thought strikes him. Could she be alone? But she'd turned down his invitation to run with him. Then again, knowing Cammie, she must have had her reasons. What, then, were her reasons for being here now?

_It's just that every time I run, I stop and look back to see if you're following me._

Cammie catches her breath as she walks along the sun-drenched, crowded streets. It'd be easy to get lost here, which is why Cammie feels so safe – at any moment she could blend into the crowd, just another tourist milling about or a young girl enjoying the sunshine. That is what she's doing, more or less. She knows she's on a mission, but it doesn't feel that way, because there isn't anyone to meet. It's just her. All she has to watch out for is the Circle – which is why she soaks in every sight, trying to detect something unusual.

But it's nice this way, Cammie muses. She isn't being watched and guarded by the people she loves. It doesn't feel as if she's a burden or anything. For the first time in a while, Cammie sighs contentedly, feeling free.

Then, suddenly, she spots movement out of the corner of her eye. Was that a mop of brown hair? Cammie doesn't know. She keeps moving, not wanting to disturb the flow of people, but the image nags in the back of her mind.

Could he be here? After their last meeting, he'd just walked off. She'd been left there, confused and slightly angry. Why would he follow her here? Part of Cammie chides herself, saying she's only imagining things. A quieter part of her whispers, _You wish he'd followed you here._ Cammie can't deny it. She misses him, hopes that maybe he really _is _here –

– there it is again. This time, there's no mistaking it: the green eyes, the brown hair. He really is here. Their eyes meet, for the briefest of moments, and then he disappears. The same thing he always does – leaves her waiting, wanting, wondering.

_Stop and stare…you start wonder why you're here, not there…_

He knows, even before their eyes meet, that she's spotted him. As he swivels around, his green eyes connect with her brown ones. For one moment, maybe two, they stand frozen, staring only at each other. In that one moment, Zach sees that she doesn't hate him – that she couldn't possibly ever hate him. Knowing that is enough to fill him with a surge of relief. Satisfied, he breaks the connection and turns away. He'd come to make sure she was safe, and she is, for the time being.

So he does what he does best – slips away, his presence missed by no one.

Except Cammie.

But they'll meet again. Zach will make sure of it.


	19. The Right Kind of Wrong

**Author's Note: Sorry it's been a while! This one is based off one of my favorite songs, "Right Kind of Wrong" by Leann Rimes. The - in some parts means that I blotted out a word. I'm sorry if this isn't one of my best one-shots. Anyway, I'll shut up now. Just read and tell me what you think! :)**

**

* * *

**

_Know all about, 'bout your reputation,  
__And how it's bound to be a heartbreak situation…_

It wasn't that their relationship was _toxic,_ really. Actually, their relationship was far from it. The problem was, they needed each other too much. Cammie had never cared much for the tragic stories of star-struck lovers (Romeo and Juliet, to name one). It just seemed too depressing. Some people would say it was the real world, but Cammie knew that real world love wasn't near as dire as certain stories made them out to be. Still, she couldn't help wondering if being with Zach was…_good_ for her.

_But I can't help it if I'm helpless every time that I'm where you are…_

He knew her far too well. Cammie couldn't hide from him. She couldn't disguise her feelings, or the fact that she cared a little too much. He was unreadable, but at the same time _he_ read _her_ like an open book.

_You walk in and my strength walks out the door,  
__Say my name and I can't fight it anymore._

"Gallagher Girl." He greeted her with that cocky grin of his. She spun around to face him, looking over the wooden bench. It was the only thing that separated them from each other. He was right there, an arm's reach away, but Cammie felt afraid to reach out and touch him. Just saying his name took effort.

"Zach." It came out as a whisper.

_Oh I know I should go,  
__But I need your touch just too - much._

Even now, with the silence closing in around them, he was calm and collected. "Hey," he acknowledged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted, before considering her words. She didn't want to chase him off. He always disappeared, right around the time she got closer to uncovering the truth.

"That question again, Gallagher Girl?" he said, amused, giving her a sideways look. Cammie just hugged her jacket closer.

"This time I want an answer."

_Loving you,  
__Isn't really something I should do,  
__Shouldn't want to spend my time with you,  
__Well I should try to be strong…  
__But baby you're the right kind of wrong.  
__Yeah baby you're the right kind of wrong._

He didn't answer. He never did. Instead he just stood there, wooing her with that half-smile of his. In a sudden moment of reflection, Cammie thought, _The half-smile is just like him._ There, but not really there. It was a smile, but at the same time, you weren't quite sure of the reasons behind the smile. It frustrated her so much. Cammie wanted to turn and walk away. She wanted to be the one to leave him behind, for once. But however much she tried, she couldn't make her feet move.

_Might be a mistake,  
__A mistake I'm making,  
__But what you're giving I am happy to be taking._

She couldn't believe that she could still bear to see him, after knowing that he'd lied to her. After finding out that his mother, _his mother,_ was the lady behind the misery of the past few months, she still trusted him. It amazed her. But then again, Zach was hardly to blame for his parents. _Maybe,_ Cammie reasoned, _the reason why I like him is because…he pays attention to me. He notices things that nobody else does._ Sometimes, though, Cammie preferred Zach not to notice. But in the end, they understood each other. She'd never felt as safe with any other guy.

'_Cause no one's ever made me feel the way I feel when I'm in your arms.  
__They say you're something I should do without,  
__They don't know what goes on when the lights go out..._

"I'm not good at answers, Gallagher Girl," Zach answered evasively. "Besides," he added, a little more serious, "sometimes questions should be left unanswered."

"Why do you keep following me, Zach?" she asked, her voice slightly biting. "What do you want?" Zach looked slightly annoyed by her outburst. His eyes narrowed.

"You think that's the only reason I'd follow you? Because I want something?"

"Why else?"

_There's no way to explain  
__All the pleasure is worth all the pain_

Zach leaned over the back of the bench. His breath was warm in her face. Cammie could smell his aftershave. He was so close…

"Let's put it this way, Gallagher Girl," he said quietly. "Spies can fall in love too." She stared at him. They'd been through so much together. Cammie's head spun. She had a flashback of him with his arms around her, dipping her in the middle of the hallway and kissing her in front of nearly everyone at school. They'd come a long way from that moment.

_Loving you  
__Isn't really something I should do,  
__Shouldn't want to spend my time with you,  
__Well I should try to be strong…  
__But baby you're the right kind of wrong.  
__Yeah baby you're the right kind of wrong._

It was different now. That first kiss had been teasing, fleeting. It hadn't lasted for very long, and Cammie had thought that it was just Zach's way of saying goodbye. His grand, dramatic exit. Instead, it had been a grand hello, the opening of a door. All the kisses afterwards – they'd _meant_ something. She meant something to him, Cammie realized, with a sudden giddy rush.

_I should run but I just can't seem to,  
_'_cause every time I run you're the one I run to  
__Can't do without, what you do to me,  
__I don't care if I'm in too deep…_

They were in this together, whether either of them liked it or not. To be honest, Cammie wouldn't put her life in anyone else's hands, aside from her friends' and her family's.

"Are you saying you're in love, then?" She managed to come up with a remark that had the barest amount of wit. She was still sitting on the bench, her body at an awkward angle, turned around to face him. Squinting up at him, she thought that he seemed taller. Had he grown? He looked down at her, the barest trace of a smile on his face.

_Know all about,  
_'_bout your reputation,  
__and how it's bound to be a heartbreak situation  
__But I can't help it if I'm helpless every time that I'm where you are…  
__You walk in and my strength walks out the door,  
__Say my name and I can't fight it anymore  
__Oh I know, I should go  
__But I need your touch just too - much_

She was completely unprepared when he bent down to kiss her. This one was a bruising kiss, filled with the need to prove something. Zach's hand cupped her cheek tightly. Cammie almost forgot to breathe.

_Loving you  
__Isn't really something I should do,  
__Shouldn't want to spend my time with you,  
__Well I should try to be strong…  
__But baby you're the right kind of wrong.  
__Yeah baby you're the right kind of wrong._

When they pulled back, Zach looked thoughtful.

"You tell me, Gallagher Girl."


	20. Cute? Not Really

**Author's Note: My twentieth chapter! I'm so proud! *grins* Thank you to all my reviewers for being so great with your comments, giving me ideas, and complimenting my one-shots. You've really made this enjoyable, and I'm so glad that you guys like the stuff I write. So, yeah, chapter number 20! Whoohoo! :)**

* * *

"He's kinda cute," remarked Bex, nodding towards the green-eyed, brown-haired boy that was up front.

"Yeah. Because spy boys who tail you during a mission, suddenly show up at your school, and could quite possibly be the enemy are _cute_," I muttered sarcastically. Bex eyed me warily.

"Wow. You're not over it."

"Over what?"

"Him beating you." I scoffed.

"Why would I be upset about that?" I said, huffily.

"I don't know. Maybe because now the Chameleon isn't the best anymore? It's okay, though. I mean, it was one CoveOps mission. It's okay not to be the best," replied Bex.

"No, it isn't okay," I said firmly. "It's part of the profession. If you aren't the _best,_ you're _dead._"

"I don't think that's what you're upset about," Macey chimed in knowingly.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm upset that I got beaten."

"I think," Macey said, clarifying, "that you're upset because you got beaten by a _boy."_

"That sounds kinda sexist, Macey," said Bex. She looked over towards the rest of the guys up front, being welcomed by my mother. "Anyway, Cam, give that one a chance. He seems to have taken to you already." I looked over to the boy in question. He flashed me a cocky grin, as if to rub in his victory, again. I looked away. There was _no way _I would be interested in him.

"No." Bex and Macey exchanged looks. I looked at both of them. "What?"

"Denial," stated Macey, inspecting her nails. "Definitely."

"Denial? What? What am I even in denial _about?"_

"About him." Macey cocked her head in the boy's direction.

"I'm not in denial!" I protested. "I don't even know him!"

"C'mon, Cam," Bex said, eyebrows raised, "from what you've told us, you shared a pretty intimate moment with him on the elevator."

"Intimate? That wasn't intimate, unless you consider offering someone M&Ms 'intimate.'"

"He flirted with you afterwards," Macey pointed out. "He wanted to accompany you to the ruby slippers exhibit."

"That was probably just because he wanted to win –"

"Well, it _was_ your fault for telling him that you were headed for the ruby slippers exhibit in the first place," Bex interjected.

"But he wasn't flirting with me," I blurted. I snuck a glance at him. He was still looking at me. I refrained from making eye contact. The last thing I needed this year was more boy trouble.

"Okay, as far as I know, asking if a girl has a boyfriend is flirting," Liz piped up. She'd been quiet for most of our conversation, but her comment wasn't helping my argument.

"He was just making small talk," I argued.

"Why make small talk when you don't have to talk at all?" questioned Bex. She smiled, knowing she had me stumped.

"Look, can we just drop the whole subject?"

"Ooh, that's what we should call him! 'The Subject,'" Bex said, waggling her eyebrows. I grimaced.

"No, no, and no! End of conversation." My timing was perfect. My mom had wrapped up her introduction of the Blackthorne boys. It was time for class. I got up, but not before Macey shot me a meaningful look and nodded behind me.

I turned.

He smiled.

I groaned.


	21. Who Else

**A/N: Yikes. I have been really, really bad about updating. But here's a chapter to tide you over while I work out the kinks in my next chapter (lots of dialogue) :P

* * *

**_"It's getting there that's hard. Once you've gotten there, it's easy to back off."_

I couldn't remember who had told me that. All I knew was that, at the time, I had believed them wholeheartedly. After all, once you knew how to get something, it should be easy to find out how to get rid of it. It just made sense.

But now, months later, I was forced to rethink all my earlier thoughts. I should have known that, as a spy, _nothing_ made sense. Even the facts I thought I knew, the things I had once been so sure of, I was second-guessing.

And all because I'd met Cammie.

There was something about her, so irresistible, that kept me coming back. I didn't know why, but I couldn't fight it. So, like any spy, I found a way around the rules. That had led me here. Now I was standing in an empty hotel corridor. I took another look at the suite number: 208. It was hers, I was sure of it, but something prevented me from knocking.

Was I _scared?_ After tailing her for the past few months secretly, how could I be _afraid_ to confront her in person? I'd done it too many times to count before. I inhaled, a bit impatient with myself. Years of training had taught me that freaking out was not an option.

No, I wasn't afraid. I wasn't nervous, either. I was just in too deep.

Now I knew that the whole statement about getting there and backing off wasn't true in the least, not for me. Sure, getting something that you want is hard. But backing off, letting it go, is even harder. After you've put so much time into it, risked everything, you can't just let go. It hurts too much.

Right. So, I wasn't letting go. Instead, I lifted my hand and knocked. Slowly, deliberately. I heard footsteps, and then a brown eye peered out from the peephole. I smirked, acknowledging her with a nod. Her eyes widened.

The door opened, and Cammie's head peered out, her face slightly flushed.

"Zach?" she asked, sounding confused and a bit… breathless? Well, it was comforting to know that I wasn't the only one who had been missing her. I leaned against the doorframe.

"Who else, Gallagher Girl?"

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter is "Guy Talk" involving Jonas, Grant, and Zach. :P Hope you liked this one!**


	22. Guy Talk

**A/N: Okay, so, you know, I was looking over the chapters and most of them are pretty serious. So I thought I'd take a break and go for lighthearted in this chapter. And, well, yeah, this is the result. :P**

* * *

Jonas came in looking flustered. He sighed – a long, loud sigh, and Zach and Grant exchanged knowing looks.

"Something up, Jonas?" Grant asked. Jonas gave him a wide-eyed look.

"Up? No, of course not!" he squeaked. Zach turned his head, disguising his laugh as a cough. Jonas was jittery today.

"Yeah. Right," Grant said, not sounding like he believed Jonas at all. "I'm guessing your particular problem involves a girl… say, a girl with blonde hair, perhaps? By the name of Elizabeth Sutton?"

"She goes by Liz," Jonas muttered, then flushed red when Grant acknowledged this with a triumphant "Aha!"

"So what about _Liz_ is troubling you?" Grant asked, swiveling in his chair and tapping his fingers restlessly on his knee. Jonas gulped and sunk into a beanbag, resigned.

"I'll have you know, I don't find this very amusing," Jonas stated, his fingers twitching in his lap.

"Really. I don't either," remarked Zach dryly, before Jonas glared at him.

"Anyway, I just can't seem to talk to her." Grant leaned back on his chair.

"Stuttering?"

"Exactly," Jonas agreed. "Contrary to _you_ two, I can't seem to pull off the "nonchalant-and-suave" attitude."

"Yeah, I'll admit, you do get flustered easily. Just putting that out there," Grant supplied. "So what do you want us to do?"

"Oh, I don't know, some advice, perhaps?" Jonas said sarcastically. "Like, what do I talk to her about?"

"What is she interested in?"

"She's academic," Jonas offered. "Computers, technology… I don't know?" Zach couldn't help smiling to himself. Of course the object of Jonas's affections would be academic.

"Then start a conversation with her about that stuff, and from there move on to personal matters," Grant suggested. "So, you know, you learn some stuff about her."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, Grant," Zach cut in, "but how do you go from _computers_ to personal information?" Grant shrugged.

"Beats me."

"Wow, thanks for the help, guys," Jonas said, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry," Zach said. "But Grant's not good at getting intelligent girls to notice him." He dodged Grant's blow just in time.

"_Well,_" Grant huffed defensively, "at least I can make the _hot_ girls turn my way."

"So far the only girl that's noticed you is your beloved 'British Bombshell,'" Zach shot back.

"Hey! Watch it, you're deflating my ego!"

"Seeing as how your ego is so inflated, I'd say that I'm helping."

"Guys," Jonas raised his voice impatiently, "sorry to interrupt your bantering, but this is still not helping."

"Why don't you ask _Zach,_ since _he's _such a know-it-all?" Jonas shot Zach a questioning look. Zach shrugged offhandedly, and reclined back onto the bed. Grant coughed and raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Zach? Are you shy about a certain subject?" he goaded. Zach folded his arms across his chest and shot Grant a look.

"Sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you _do,"_ Grant half-sang. "Brown hair, brown eyes? Ring a bell? Goes by the Chameleo –"

"Grant," Zach said, his voice low and quiet, "shut up."

"Touchy, aren't we?"

"At least she _likes _me, unlike your pathetic attempts at flirting with Bex!"

"Bex _does _like me! She just doesn't know it yet!"

"Guys!" Jonas cleared his throat, "cut it out!" Zach and Grant looked at each other, Grant sulking, Zach smirking. Then Grant started up again.

"Zach won't help you because he doesn't want to get involved in girl matters, since he already has a girl falling hard for him," he told Jonas, choosing to ignore Zach's glare. "Besides, Zach's got his hands full, seeing as he chooses to spend so much time around _Cammie, _anyway."

"Grant?" Zach piped up.

"Yeah?"

"If you don't shut it, I will punch you in the face."

"Oh yeah? You want me to explain to your girlfriend that I have a black eye because I said her name and you punched my lights out?"

"Grant –" Zach said, his voice taking on a warning tone.

"See? You wouldn't, 'cause you don't want to make a bad impression!"

"Shut. Up."


	23. This Promise

It sparkles on her finger, slender, secure. The familiar feel of the thin band rubbing against her finger is reassuring. It's her only comfort on those lonely nights when she sits, staring out the window and waiting.

Waiting. It seems like waiting is all her life has come to nowadays. Her career is still exciting as ever – it's hard not to be excited when you're a spy being sent on clandestine missions. But they seem to fly by in a blur, because she's always anxious to get home. Hoping that one day, when she opens the door, he'll have beaten her there and will be waiting with that smirk of his.

Until then, miles of land separate them. An ocean also bridges the gap, and she crosses her fingers, hoping that he'll come back. Praying that nothing will go wrong. Because when you're a spy, you find out that oftentimes, everything that could possibly go wrong _does_. And she can't stand another loss in her life, not after her father missing. If she loses him, too, she swears she'll lose her mind.

He's capable, though, one of the most capable spies she's ever met. She has faith in him – how could she not, after agreeing and accepting the ring from him?

"_Whatever happens, this is a promise." _The promise that, no matter what, at the end of the day he'll come back and take her in his arms. She isn't one for sob stories or over-romantic drama, but she's come to realize that it feels nice to have someone to lean against. To fall back on. And if he disappears, she'll fall backward with no one to catch her, an endless freefall into oblivion.

Her cell phone beeps. She stirs slowly, aware that another assignment awaits her and she has no more time for these dark thoughts. After all, how realistic are they? Nothing will happen to him, or to them. The ring on her finger is proof enough. It's a promise, twinkling brightly in dark.

In a world fraught with lies, she knows that a promise is the one thing he won't break.

* * *

**A/N: As you can probably tell, I was in a bit of a brooding mood when I wrote this...**


	24. Help

The sound of wine glasses clinking rang in the air as he leaned against a wall, observing but not interacting. Suddenly, though, someone addressed him.

"Mr. Goode." He turned to face a gorgeous woman with bright blue eyes and dark hair, clothed in a long evening gown. Her voice was soft, but held an edge. For some reason, it sounded familiar. He struggled not to let his uneasiness show, instead feigning indifference.

"I don't believe we've met," he said. The woman arched an eyebrow. She was beautiful, he acknowledged, but he felt as if her beauty disguised a deadly sharpness beneath it.

"You don't remember me?" she asked, acting disappointed. Her eyes never left his. "I thought spies were supposed to have excellent memories." Again, a surge of uneasiness welled up in his chest. Who was this woman?

"I've met many people in my lifetime," he responded. "I don't make it a habit to remember every single one. Spies may have excellent memories, but they are also trained to have priorities," he remarked. The woman smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She looked satisfied, though, as if she'd scored a point.

"Ah, yes. As I remember, in your high school years you definitely made a certain spy girl a _big_ priority." Zach stiffened, thrown off guard. What did she know about his past? He forced himself to relax. The woman could be faking, after all. Spies did that.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't know much about you, either." The woman folded her arms.

"Well, that's quite obvious," she said dryly. "I know quite a lot about you, even though, sadly, you know next to nothing about me." Zach shrugged.

"I'll admit, something about you is vaguely familiar, but forgive me for not remembering your name." At his remark, the woman stepped closer, eyes glittering. She leaned in, her voice deadly quiet.

"You may not remember very many names, but I'm sure you remember this one: Cameron Morgan," she said, scrutinizing him for a reaction. Zach recoiled, as if he'd been struck. The name dug deep into him, reawakening memories and hurt feelings.

"You're not Cammie," he whispered, his brain numb with confusion. The lady shook her head.

"You're right, I'm not. It's me, Macey," she replied.

"McHenry?" he asked, incredulous, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a spy, too, Zach," she said, using his first name for the first time that evening. "Our paths haven't crossed up until now, and I'm not here on a mission. It's more of a personal matter."

"What does that have to do with Cammie?" he asked, frowning. Macey lowered her voice.

"Cammie's gone missing. I need your help."

"What about Baxter and Sutton?" Zach asked, disguising the fear that crept into his mind. _Cammie's gone missing. _

"They're involved," Macey confided. "But we still need your help."

"You need me?" Macey nodded.

"Yeah. You're dependable, and you're close to Cammie." Zach dropped his gaze.

"I can't," he said, his voice strangled. "I betrayed Cammie. She knew about my mom, and she still trusted me, but there were other things that I didn't tell her…and when she found out, everything was over." Macey sucked in a breath.

"Zach," she said, quietly, "Whatever happened between you and Cammie back then, you have to put it aside. If you help us and we find her, you can fix it. You can make everything right again."

"She won't look at me," he said bitterly. Macey shook her head.

"Look, Zach, you've always struck me as the strong, solid type. You can't just let the girl you loved walk out of your life and then act like nothing happened." She didn't wait for him to respond. "I know you've tried to go on and forget about her, but that's not going to work." She pressed a slip of paper into his hand. "Meet me there tomorrow," she instructed, before stepping back and turning away.

He stared after her. The hush and whisper of an evening gown trailing on the floor was the only evidence that she had ever been in the room.


	25. Normal

**A/N: So I've kind of been neglecting "In The Business" lately. I'm focusing on "Facing the Truth, Facing You" (first full-length Gallagher Girl fic! Not a one-shot! Yay!) Anyway, I want to keep this up, though, because all you guys have been so good about reviews and encouragement. So if you guys don't mind, leave a few one-word prompts for me and I'll try to make them into one-shots! (Here's an example):**

**One-word prompt: **_Normal_

**This one takes place after "Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover."**

* * *

"Do you ever wonder what it'd be like to be normal?" I asked, playing with my bedspread. I'd asked myself that question far too many times ever since the Circle of Cavan incident. Liz looked up from the latest gadget she was fidgeting with.

"'Normal' is overrated," she said.

"I know," I said, bringing my knees to my chest. "But I can't help feeling that maybe it'd be easier." Bex gave me a look. She moved to sit next to me.

"I have a feeling that not being normal isn't what's bugging you, Cam," she said, studying me. "It's about the Circle, isn't it?"

"Maybe this whole thing wouldn't have happened if I'd never been a spy," I burst out. "Abby getting shot. All of this. If I'd just been a regular girl walking around Roseville, none of this would have happened, and people wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Cammie," Macey said, her voice soft, soothing, "No one blames you."

"Macey's right. And look at it this way: even if you _were_ 'normal', they might still have targeted you. And that time, you wouldn't have any spy training to defend yourself," Liz pointed out.

"You wouldn't have had us," Bex said, attempting to cheer me up with a grin. I sighed, falling back on the bed.

"I know. But just… I would have been better as just another face in the crowd. I'm already good at that, anyway," I said. After all, I _was _a pavement artist. In the past I'd worried about no one noticing me, but given the current circumstances, I'd have given anything to blend into the crowd.

"Don't say that, Cammie." Liz rushed to assure me. "You're special. That's why the Circle is after you." She winced as the words came out, realizing that they weren't as reassuring as she'd meant them to be. Macey filled the silence.

"I don't know about you, Cammie, but I wouldn't want to just be part of the crowd. I don't want to be another pretty face. I want to accomplish something, and that's what spies _do," _she said. Bex nodded in agreement.

"After all, pretty girls turn heads," she said. "_We_ break necks."


	26. Invisible

**Prompt: **_Invisible _(submitted by AMessofPickles)

* * *

"Cammie? **CAMMIE.** This isn't funny, you know. Where are you?" A girl with blonde pigtails stood lost in the crowd, spinning dizzily as her eyes darted back and forth, trying to pinpoint her friend. The carnival was loud and the noises pressed against her from all sides. Cammie's mom had stopped by one of the booths and told them – firmly – to stay put. So where was Cammie?

"I'm right here." A quiet voice spoke from beside her and Hannah jumped in fright. Cammie's brown eyes studied her curiously. "I was standing just a few feet away, you know."

Hannah blinked. "You were?" Impossible. She'd looked in that spot only a moment ago, and all that she'd seen was a wisp of brown hair and several moving bodies who had pushed past her. The carnival was an easy place to get lost.

"Yes, I was."

"Stop teasing me, that isn't funny," Hannah frowned. "I looked over there. You weren't. I thought you went back to find your mom." Cammie shook her head furiously.

"I was standing there the whole time."

"Fine," Hannah conceded. "Let's just wait here for your mom."

That afternoon, after Hannah left, Cammie crept into her mother's study.

"Mom?" she inquired. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Rachel Morgan answered her daughter, gesturing to her lap. Cammie clambered up and sat there obediently, gazing up at her mother.

"Am I different?"

"That's an odd question," Rachel remarked. "Different how?"

"I don't know. Maybe… invisible?" Cammie said slowly, forming the syllables with her mouth.

A smile quirked the corner of Rachel's mouth. "I can see you. And anyways, what makes you say that?" Rachel questioned.

"Earlier today, Hannah couldn't find me in the crowd, and I was standing only a few feet away from her," Cammie explained. "Is that strange?"

"Were you trying to get her attention?" Cammie considered her mother's question.

"No, I was actually doing it on purpose. I was just being quiet and trying to blend in with the crowd without moving too far away. I wanted to see if she would notice. And she didn't. Does that make sense? _Am_ I invisible?"

"No, of course not!" Rachel laughed, smoothing her daughter's plain brown hair. "You're not invisible. You're a pavement artist."

**Ah, it's short, sadly. Read and review? Leave me a prompt, too! (all you have to do is pick a word. One word, and I'll see what I can do with it!) ;)**


	27. Tupperware

**Prompt: **_Tupperware _(from maximumpotter101)

**Someone also requested I do one with Solomon in it... so here it is. :)**

* * *

Tupperware is temporary, like life.

Maybe a better word would be "ephemeral" or "fleeting," but Joe Solomon doesn't mince his words. He knows that he doesn't have much time. Then again, it's _time – _no one _ever_ has enough of it. Still, it's only a little while before people start asking questions, digging deeper than they should, and unburying parts of his past that he hoped would stay buried for another century or so. He didn't want to have to face that part of himself again.

All philosophical musings aside, there is a simple reason why Joe Solomon's kitchen cabinets are filled with Tupperware. It's the mark of someone who moves around often, someone who seeks practicality. Tupperware is practical because it's easy to clean, easy to stack.

Easy to pack. Also, it's cheap, it isn't super valuable – so it's much easier to throw away or discard. Whereas your aunt's heirloom glass plate has passed down through generations, Tupperware doesn't hold any memories or any values. It just is.

Glass plates and bowls aren't something you can take with you on impromptu trips halfway across the world. But Tupperware fits easily, and you don't have to worry about it breaking. It's sturdy, dependable. Something he wishes he was.

Maybe it isn't practical to pack a Tupperware container with you in your suitcase when you're on a mission, staying some place far away for who knows how long. But it's comforting to take a piece of his life with him everywhere. A familiar container on a foreign apartment counter somehow makes life more bearable. It reminds you of home.

He's not quite sure where his home is anymore. Home is a place where you belong, a place where there are those you trust. But for him, as a spy, trust has become an obsolete term.

It saddens him, but then he reminds himself that life is temporary, and even then, there's much for him to do.


	28. Strike

**Prompt: **_Strike _(from Scarlet Phoenix Roth)

**Forgive me if it's a little abstract. :)**

* * *

_Strike 1_

Matthew Morgan was never good at following directions. But he would have done anything for a friend.

And maybe that was his downfall.

_Strike 2_

"You're going on another mission?"

"Yeah."

"What if you don't come back?"

"That's a risk I'll have to take."

"What about your family? And it'll be dangerous."

"I know it'll be dangerous. But so is everything else I've done."

_Strike 3_

His biggest regret is that he didn't give them a proper goodbye. And now there are people stepping out of the shadows, and he's wondering how much they know.

"We've been waiting for you."

_…and…you're out._

* * *

** eyes134 - your prompt, "lovely" is next. :)**


	29. Lovely

**Prompt:** _Lovely_, from **134**

* * *

The dress stands across from her, as if daring her to put it on, to finally accept the fact that this is all real. This is the final taunt, checking to see if she's brave enough to follow through.

Soon she'll be at a church saying her vows, effectively sealing her fate. Now is not the time to be insecure, but she is. Only a little bit, but still.

The problem is, she's always been cute. But a bride should be gorgeous on her wedding day. And she's afraid that next to her bridesmaids – one stunning, the other beautiful, another pretty – she's afraid that she'll pale next to them. She should brush it aside, mark it as insignificant, but a tiny part of her wants to feel special. She wants to shine.

After staring at the dress for another five minutes, she takes a deep breath and finally moves. Zipping it up carefully so as not to disturb her carefully arranged curls, she lifts her head. She tilts her chin, studying the way the curls piled on her head follow her movements. She feels special, but that's easy to say when you're alone in a room. Will she turn heads as she walks down the aisle? She isn't sure.

But oh, she remembers the way he looked when he proposed. There was a sudden calm to him, nothing like the anxious, jittery boy she knew. And then he'd popped the question, and she'd answered with a resounding yes, because that was what she wanted. What she'd waited for, for months.

It crashes over her like a wave, the enormity of her situation. She's getting _married._ She should be happy, overjoyed. So why is she so worried about how she'll appear once she enters the church doors? Her wedding dress is ethereal; her bridesmaids helped her pick it out, examining every detail and debating on the other dresses. They finally settled on this one: fairy-like, slightly shimmering at the skirt. It feels like she's been wrapped in sea foam. The silk is smooth on her skin. Everything she dreamed for herself is happening today.

And ironically, the words she wants to hear right now aren't, _"I love you" _or _"I do."_ No, the only thing she wants is for someone to look at her and gush, _"You're gorgeous. You're beautiful."_

A light knock sounds on the door behind her. She raises her head, does a final turn, and exhales. "Come in," she calls softly.

A face with bright blue eyes and dark, luscious hair peeps in. Her bridesmaid. But Liz thinks that Macey could pass for the bride, if only her dress was a different color. Macey, however, thinks that Liz looks radiant.

"Liz, you look…" Liz waits, holding her breath, sure that the next word is going to be "pretty." It's always _pretty_ that describes her, or cute.

"You look… lovely."

And suddenly she's sure of herself. Because _beautiful _may come from the word _beauty, _but lovely has the word _love _in it, and it _is _her wedding day, after all.


	30. Compromise

**Prompt: **_Compromise_, from **AMessofPickles  
****Pairing:** Grant/Bex

* * *

He hasn't been gone for more than half an hour before he's turned back and is standing in front of her door, ringing the doorbell. He hopes that she'll open it. She does have a stubborn streak, after all.

The door opens slowly, reluctantly. She stands there watching him, and he's glad that she hasn't closed the door in his face yet. Her eyes are angry, defiant, telling him, _I'm not reconsidering my opinion._

That's how it always is. They're both too stubborn for their own good, and he had to be lucky enough to fall in love with the one girl who wouldn't hesitate to smack him upside the face, just to put him in his place. He sucks in a slow breath. He has to apologize first. It's gotten easier with time, and he's beginning to get used to it.

"I'm sorry," he offers. Her eyes are still narrowed slightly, but he knows what she's going to do next. He knows it just as well as he knows her various styles of roundhouse kicks – kicks that he has been the receiving end of, all too often. She steps aside and leaves the door open, a silent acknowledgement that he's still welcome in the house.

He moves, but stops at the doorway, reaching down to take her hand. He tugs her along with him. Behind him, her voice speaks up, unwavering and strong. Her best qualities.

"I'm sorry, too. I was wrong," she apologizes. Grant smiles to himself.

"It's alright. We'll both get over it. Compromise, right?" he says.

Compromise. Just love by another name.


	31. Trick or Treat

**Prompt:** _Trick or Treat_, from AMessofPickles  
**Summary:** Because even spy moms have a right to be worried.  
**A/N:** Goodness, I realize this is much overdue... however, I did write it before Halloween, but only now did I find it on my computer. Much apologies about that. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it. :)

* * *

It's that time of year again. The trees turn golden and orange and red, and the air is sharp with autumn. But there's a sharpness in her heart, too, a pang that a million cups of apple cider won't subdue.

She drives out into the town that night, leaving Gallagher Academy in the hands of her sister. _Just one night,_ she promises, and Abby smiles at her with a look of understanding and nods, but Rachel thinks that inside Abby's hurting as much as she is. She laments this as she stares at the road, alone in the car, wondering how she let her daughter get away. _Careless. Careless,_ her mind repeats, over and over again.

She let her husband get away, too. She stayed at home and took the news and tried to never let her hopes get up again, but they come back year after year, like the leaves on a tree. A part of her nags, _still alive. Still alive._

The house is small, tucked away. A safehouse, of sorts, in case they ever need to flee back into the actual town of Roseville. In case Gallagher Academy, with its strong walls and windows, ever fails to keep her family of little girls safe. _Too late,_ chides her internal voice again. _It didn't keep your daughter in._ Rachel Morgan closes her eyes and grabs her keys, slamming the car door a bit harder than intended. _No other girls are going to disappear on my watch, _she thinks grimly, picturing all the wide-eyed freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors. All still so innocent, despite what they think.

She slides the one key that she never uses into the lock and turns it, opening the door and creeping around quietly, even though she knows that it's empty. No one else knows about this house. It's a last resort, but only an in-between. There's not much to live on in this house. It was bought as a middle point – rest for the night here, gather supplies, and then run on. There's nothing here for her except for the creak of wooden floorboards being tread upon for the first time. No pictures of Cammie or Matthew. Rachel thought that coming here would make her feel better, since there's nothing to make her think of them. And for a little time, it works.

There's a full moon outside when, after tidying up absentmindedly, she hears the doorbell ring. The first thought that registers is _"Cammie?"_ before she remembers that Cammie doesn't know about this place.

She opens the door to see a few beaming faces smiling up at her, buckets half-filled with candy.

"Trick or treat!" they chorus hopefully, eyeing her empty hands. A flashlight breaks through the dark, and Rachel squints down the lane to see a few parents watching over their kids. _What sort of parent would let their child traipse up to a house on the outskirt of town?_ wonders Rachel. The kids fidget restlessly, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps there will be no treat after all.

A hazy ghost image of Cammie, shrunk to kindergarten size, floats in her view, and Rachel finds her throat clogged with worry.

"There's no candy here," she apologizes, sounding as sad as the children do as they stare up at her, moaning, "Awwwwwww."

She sends them off with a wave, and a quiet wish: "Be safe." After the flashlight beam retreats, she closes the door and sinks to the ground.

_There's no candy here,_ she thinks. _Because there's no one else here, either._

* * *

_**Reviews are as sweet as candy. :P**  
_


	32. Distraction

**Prompt: **_Distraction,_ from **Muggleborn13  
Summary:** It wasn't even all that fair, Abby thought, because no sane woman, spy or not, could go without noticing Joe Solomon.

* * *

Those in charge had made a bad decision when they decided to pair her up with Joe Solomon for this little scouting mission, Abby decided. It wasn't that she was distracted; heavens no, she took her job _very_ seriously, but it wasn't all that fair, either, to stick her in the same room as Joe Solomon and be expected to waltz along like everything was fine.

Because no sane woman, spy or not, could go without noticing Joe Solomon.

_I'm going to blame it on the eyes,_ Abby thought, conjuring up a vision in her mind's eye of Joe Solomon's gorgeous blue ones. _Or maybe the hair, too._ That blonde hair looked effortless on Joe, giving him a definite boost in the "attractiveness" sector. But there was something beyond Joe Solomon's good looks that drew Abby in. Beneath his handsome exterior, she sensed lots of mystery and conflict, and if there was anything Abby loved, it was a puzzle and a challenge.

On a high-stakes, high-action escapade, Abby probably wouldn't have stopped to notice any of those things, but her current mission at hand was far from strenuous. It was more of a reconnaissance thing. Abby suspected that the whole exercise was more to maintain their skills then to actually _find_ anything. The terrain in question was hardly difficult to navigate.

At that moment, Abby and Joe were inching along the walls, which were damp and moist from the fact that they were located underground. A steady _plip, plop_ echoed throughout the cavern, telling them there was a lot of space in the underground tunnel and that they still had quite a while to go. A few small rivulets of water ran past Abby's shoes, slicking the toes of her boots. The lighting was dim, but bright enough that they hadn't had to make use of their flashlight just yet. It was bright enough that Abby could make out most of the features of the man standing beside her—and, well, sue her for thinking that he was a more pleasant sight than the scenery around them.

They turned a corner, where Joe's arm reached out to hold her back. "Wait." She stopped, holding her breath and thinking, hopefully—_Well, maybe we'll have some action after all._ The steady rhythm of water dripping continued, and Abby strained to hear if anything was amiss. Nothing. She moved forward, stopping only when Joe grabbed her wrist, an eyebrow raised in question. "What are you doing?"

Abby shrugged out of his grip. "Don't worry about me, Joe. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself," she said, winking at him saucily. "Let the woman lead." She heard him fall into step behind her.

"I guess I can't say no to something as charming as that," he spoke. Flirtatiously. _Good,_ Abby rejoiced. _Maybe this little trip won't be so boring after all._ She hadn't had witty banter with a good-looking guy in a while, and the feminine part of her warmed to the challenge.

"Careful," she warned him, teasingly. "If you flirt with me, I'm going to flirt back, and we both might end up losing our hearts along the way." She meant nothing of it, of course, and Joe Solomon knew it too, because she heard him chuckle.

"You don't say," he mused. "I suppose 'The Heartbreaker' was one of your preferred code names when you were younger?"

"Maybe even now," she replied, scanning the murky darkness ahead of her. "After all, it's not like every guy I meet on a mission is going to be a keeper."

"Then why let them believe you have any intention of keeping them?" Joe Solomon asked, his voice suddenly soft. Abby froze, startled. She'd expected him to stick to their flirtatious dialogue, but something about his voice told her that their conversation had taken a turn into more serious matters. _This must be how the younger girls feel in class,_ Abby realized. _Like their resolves and their motives are being questioned. _And Abby couldn't help asking herself "why", either. Why _did_ she flirt and grin and seduce when she knew that no relationship she got involved in was going to work out anyway?

She found her answer soon enough. "Because sometimes, when we feel powerless about our own lives, it makes us feel better to think we hold some power over others," she stated simply. And it was true. As a spy, she often felt that some things were beyond her control. She felt as if too much depended on the luck of the draw and the roll of the die. Just once, she'd like fate to play out in her hands, but that was being naïve and Abby knew it. So, instead, she turned to ensuring she had control of other things—relationships and emotions. She couldn't always guard her life, but she could guard her heart; hide it behind coy looks and flirty statements.

"Sage wisdom," Solomon remarked. He paused, considering his thoughts for a moment before he asked, "Why did you become a spy, Abby?" It was the first time he'd spoken her name that day, and suddenly the moment felt much more intimate than she'd intended it to be. She swallowed, fixing her gaze ahead.

"Because everyone else in my family was. I never considered that I could be or do anything else," she answered. That had been yet another one of those times where she'd felt as if a string was pulling her along, and she could barely control her limbs. Becoming a spy had been one of those obvious things, something expected. She'd never stopped and tried her hand at anything else. In that moment, Abby felt as if maybe she didn't have as much control of her life as she'd thought she did.

Abby turned to glance at Joe over her shoulder. "What about you?"

He fixed her with an unreadable look. "It was better than being an assassin." The words sent shivers down her spine as she remembered just where Joe had come from. The Blackthorne Institute for Boys. In the flickering light, she saw _all_ of Joe Solomon—a handsome man, yes, but also a boy who had grown into adulthood too fast. There was a weary look in his eyes, a thousand words weighted with regret. Idly, Abby wondered if Joe Solomon was a future projection of Zach, the boy Cammie was always with. Abby suspected that the two—Joe and Zach—had much in common.

"You know, I've always wondered about that," Abby spoke up in the silence. Joe raised an eyebrow.

"About what?" he prompted.

"About fate. About choices," Abby elaborated, gesturing with her hands. "How some choices spark a chain of events, and things just escalate from there and they keep going until they form a major part of who we are. And then," she paused, taking a breath, "why do other choices just fizzle out? Why do they affect us only briefly and then just become another thing in passing?" She slowed to a stop as she realized their feet had taken them to a fork in the cavern.

Joe Solomon stood behind her, practically radiating body heat, and she could have sworn she heard an amused tone in his voice as he breathed in her ear, "So, what choice are you going to make?"

He was referring to which path to take, of course, but Abby's thoughts followed a different track. _Well, I could choose to turn around and kiss you, and we both know that would be one of those choices that would escalate and certainly not fizzle out._ Out loud, she said, boldly, "Has anyone ever told you that you're a distraction?"

Joe walked around so he was facing her, and by the way his lips curved, his amusement was evident. "I don't think I've heard that one before. Is something bothering you?"

"Yes," Abby exhaled, feigning exasperation. "I can't think."

Joe took a step closer. "And that's because…?" _Because you're so terribly good-looking,_ Abby thought, studying him. She heard him continue on: "Whatever it is, we'd better clear it up now. I'm going to need you to have a clear head in case we run into any trouble down one of those corridors." He paused briefly to indicate the paths behind him. Abby couldn't help the mischievous grin that crossed her face.

"So what are you going to do about it?" she questioned. "What are you going to do to clear my head, I mean."

"This," Joe said simply, before pulling her towards him. It was ten times sweeter now that _he_ was the one to initiate the kiss, and as she skimmed her hands up his shoulders, she couldn't help smiling against his mouth. _I really needed to get that out of my system._

Mm, yes, Joe Solomon was a distraction, alright.

A _delicious_ distraction.

* * *

**A/N: **XD I think I had way too much fun writing that. I don't know; I've never written Abby before, but I hope I got her in character all right. She's just so awesome and I hope I did her justice. And in my opinion, there's not enough Joe/Abby out there. They're such a fun couple. :P (okay, so maybe they aren't really a couple, but still...) Anyway, I finally picked up a copy of the _Heist Society._ And all I can say is: HALE. Like, ohmygod, he just blows Zach clear out of the water. :P I'm hoping to write a one-shot for the _Heist Society _soon, so, yeah! And for those of you who haven't read my newest one-shot, _the clock just stopped,_ I'd really appreciate if you did and gave me your feedback. I kind of played with a more...I don't know, abstract/montage-like feel in it, and I want to see if people like it when I write like that. :P And I probably bored you all to death with my excessively long Author's Note. Reviews are always nice! XD


	33. Are You Sure?

**Prompt: "**Are you sure?" from **AMessofPickles  
****Pairing:** Zach/Cammie

* * *

"Are you sure?" Zach asks, his voice muffled in Cammie's hair. She knows what he's really asking—_Are you sure she'll be okay?_ and she smiles at the worry in his voice.

He keeps his arms around her waist as they watch the yellow school bus pull away, their daughter's face peering through one of the windows, flushed pink with nervous excitement. Cammie smiles at the unspoken question in her little girl's brown eyes—"Are you sure Dad won't go crazy worrying about me?"

She's not so sure about the second question, but she answers honestly to the one her husband asked. "I'm sure."

* * *

**A/N: **Short and sweet...hopefully. :P For the next few I'm going to make them more little drabbles/moments instead of longer, drawn-out things like my past few have been. Read and review! :)


	34. Elephantine

**Prompt:** "Elephantine" from **maximumpotter101  
****Pairing:** Liz/Jonas

* * *

He's kind of twitchy, she realizes, but she can't say much of her own hand-eye coordination, so it doesn't really matter to her. But his elephantine movements amuse her nonetheless. He trips over _everything_. His toes snag on the carpet, on bench legs, on the stairs, but he always manages to catch himself and whatever else he's brought down with him (thank heavens, because he'd never hear the end of it if he'd ended up breaking that heirloom vase from her grandmother). She can't really remember why she fell for him in the first place. _He's_ the one always falling, after all.

Still, he's Jonas, and she's Liz, two parts of a whole, and if he goes down, she'll gladly go down with him.


	35. Tipsy

**Prompt:** _Tipsy _from **violets-are-violet  
Pairing: **Bex/Grant**  
**

* * *

"Now, that girl—over _there—_she's a goddess," slurs Grant, waving his hand towards a green-eyed girl in the corner with a loud laugh and shining copper hair. Liz hiccups, about to say something, but Grant continues, "And _I'm…_I'm a god."

Zach tries to withhold his laughter. "In that case, _Zeus,_ why don't you go talk to her?"

Grant stands up shakily and sets his cup down. "Fine. I think—" he sways unsteadily, "I think I will."

Someone offers Bex a cup, but she pushes it away and watches Grant introduce himself too loudly and too eagerly, the alcohol overcoming his normal personality. Cammie looks at her, and Bex raises her nose. "Hm," she snorts. She's not jealous or anything—she's just watching Grant to make sure he doesn't make a complete fool of himself while he's drunk.


	36. Tangled

**Prompt: **_Tangled_ from **AMessofPickles  
**

* * *

"Next time, can we pick a route with a little less brambles?" grumbled Liz, brushing the burrs off her jeans.

Beside her, Macey helped pull a few twigs out of the snags in Liz's hair. Liz had gotten out easy—her short bob hadn't picked up much. Macey, Bex, and Cammie, on the other hand, with their long hair, had suffered much worse. Their hair was tangled and snarled, with all kinds of knots. Cammie winced as she worked her fingers through her locks.

"Oh, come on, a little dirt never hurt anybody," teased Bex, kicking aside a rock. "Look there." She pointed. "I think we're getting close."

Something in the bushes rustled, and Liz squeaked, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Snake!" she whisper-hissed, her voice barely audible.

The girls took off down the path, breathless with equal parts fear, excitement, and relief.


	37. PS

**Prompt: **_P.S._ from **ISpyANinjaAndItsMe  
Pairing: **Rachel/Matthew

* * *

She spends all day trying to backtrack and remember where she left her coat. It was careless and she knows it, continually berating herself as her feet pace back and forth around the briefing room, trying to remember where she left it. She's also trying to find out who would have taken it, because, for goodness sake, who takes a woman's coat?

She gives up. Just as she pushes through the doors, someone bumps into her with a familiar burgundy overcoat in his hands. She stops short.

The man's smile is wide, albeit careful. She knows him, of course. She has to know everyone because she has to know who she can trust.

Matthew Morgan (she remembers his name from countless meetings, but also from the whispers and the rumors) hands over her coat.

"It'd be a shame to lose something like this," he remarks. "Who knows what else you could have lost."

She interprets it as a pointed statement that she's too careless to work in the field and takes it upon herself to prove him wrong. He helps her into her jacket—a bit too smoothly for her liking, and as she shoves her hands into her pockets her fingers brush against a slip of paper.

Frowning, she pulls out the note to read in neat, clipped writing: _P.S._ _Maybe we should talk over dinner._

She forces herself not to look back. Two can play at this game.


	38. Prospects

**Prompt: **_Prospects_ from **That's Classified  
**Rachel/Abby conversation, with implied Zach/Cammie. Takes place during _Don't Judge a Girl By Her Cover._

* * *

"We need to talk."

Rachel looked up from her desk and motioned for Abby to sit down. "About…?" she prompted, rifling through some loose paperwork.

"About Cammie," stated Abby, pulling a chair over. "She's spending an awful lot of time with that Zach kid."

Rachel's head snapped up at the name, but she made no comment except, "She's still a teenager, you know."

"That's not the point, and I know _you_ know that, too," Abby declared impatiently. "He's from _Blackthorne."_

"So was Matthew," Rachel replied, and this time there was a slight wobble in her voice. "So were all the other boys that stayed within these walls last year. He's just a _boy."_ So much emotion pinned on that one word.

"That's not what they're trained to become," reminded Abby. _Assassins, _was the unspoken word. "You told me how badly things ended with that civilian kid when Cammie became involved in him."

Rachel remembered very well. She remembered the stricken look on her daughter's face when they'd informed her that Josh would have the majority of his memories wiped, retaining only the barest recollections of who Cammie was. She remembered the drive in silence, knowing she was sending her daughter to be interrogated, all because Cammie had liked the wrong person at the wrong time.

"Yes, but I highly doubt Cammie would make the same mistake," Rachel assured her sister. "Zach is…he's a good kid."

"And a spy."

"Spies need love, too."

Abby smiled at her sadly, and for a moment Rachel wondered which of them was truly the older one. "Is it worth it, Rachel? Even after all of this, you can still say that?"

_Every single moment was worth it,_ Rachel thought fiercely, remembering her husband's smile, the way he tucked her hair behind her ear when he kissed her goodbye, Cammie blinking up at her in the hospital lights—a beautiful baby girl. Hers. Matthew whispering, _She'll be great someday._ Her agreeing.

"Let it run its course," she told Abby tiredly. "He won't hurt her. Cammie can watch out for herself, and she'll need someone by her side. What's one more person?"

"One more person means one more person to get attached to. And in this case, I'd say the person in question is highly suspicious, mysterious, and potentially dangerous. Not the kind of guy you want running around with your daughter, good intentions or not. Look, Rachel, I'm only watching out for her. She's my niece too, you know. I don't want her to get hurt. Love leaves scars."

Rachel smoothed the white sheet of paper in front of her. "Sometimes we get scarred anyway."

"So you're going to leave this to chance? Look at the prospects. Things are only going to get more dangerous, tougher, and Cammie's getting older—she can't do with anything holding her down or misleading her. He…there's something about him that I don't like, Rachel. If he betrays her? Then what?"

"Let it run its course," Rachel repeated, folding her hands in her lap and closing her eyes. _I want my daughter to have a happy life. I want her to find love. Is that too much to ask?_


	39. Announcement

Dear readers,

First off, a massive thank you to each and every one of you, anyone who has read, favorited, followed, reviewed, left prompts, PM'ed me... you all have been so supportive and kind and made writing this enjoyable.

That said, I don't think I have enough material left in me to continue to write drabbles that will do these characters justice. Who knows? Maybe I'll get a spark of inspiration some time down the line. But for now, In the Business is officially **complete.**

If you aren't sick of me yet, I've written one last piece for Gallagher Girls, my farewell fic of sorts: so far gone. Check it out on my profile if you like. And goodbye for now! While I'm going to focus on my works for other fandoms, you all will always be special as my first.

With love,

amillionsmiles


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